


donation

by leukoplakiaa



Series: bloodbank [1]
Category: The Kane Chronicles - Rick Riordan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 15:17:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20391829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leukoplakiaa/pseuds/leukoplakiaa
Summary: a prequel, to bloodbank: college, anxiety, coming outit's not that deep.





	donation

i.

“You came!” Carter pushes himself through the crowds, frankly adorable in the green gown; green is a good color on the boy. His cap is clutched in his hand, and Horus is drawn into a side hug. “You even dressed!”

Horus chuckles, going to kiss his forehead, but Carter ducks away. “I told you I would, princeling. Sadie helped me.” His eyes drift over him, lithe body concealed by the flowing fabric. “Have you-”

Carter shakes his head. “Ten minutes. The shirt matches your eyes. This the one we got last week?” He tampers his excitement, stilted in public affection, but his fingers do brush the shirt, folding the collar back. Chest, collarbone. The touch is gentle, and Horus knows it is all he’s getting.

“I think. I’m not really sure.” He wants to kiss the boy, always, but he knows that it won’t be appreciated here. “May I see you after? Alone?” Weeks ago he requested Carter, but all he received was _Come out with my parents and I._

_Control yourself_. “Why don’t we find Sadie and get you seated?” Honestly, he’d rather not; if it wasn’t Carter he wouldn’t have come at all. But they go through the crowd, touch free save for the times Carter is bumped into him by the bustling crowd.

Sadie has settled herself atop the bleachers, the highest row, and they climb up after her, feet rumbling on the hollow wood. Graciously, Carter grabs his sleeve to guide him, flashing him a smile over his shoulder. Better. It’s better. There are three open seats, and he knows that the Kane parents will be situated here as well. He’s sat down beside Sadie, and Horus gazes down the bleachers. They reach high. “Be nice to him,” Carter says, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m never _unkind_ to him.” They’re at the awkward time where Sadie is only a year younger. “Go. Graduate. I want dinner,” but a smile, how ever faint, is on her face.

Siblings in all they do, emotion flickers across Carter’s face. Horus cocks his head, yet to read the boy in full. They are close, but Horus tries to offer Carter some privacy by not rooting around his mind for answers. “Have fun. I’ll be back in a little while,” he says; it’s quick and brief, but Carter does kiss him, a bit awkward and catching their noses, but it is a kiss. There aren’t any words on Carter’s part, only flushed cheeks and him disappearing hastily down the stairs.

Sadie whistles. “Nice. Wasn’t expecting that,” she says. She bumps her knee against his, blue eyes brimming with mischief. Sadie Kane occasionally wears dresses, and he does not know how to feel about it. “Want to step out?”

Brow furrowed, confused: “I told him I would see him graduate.” Horus leans against the wall, hands buried in the pockets of his shorts. They’re a different experience, compared to skirts and pants. Some middle ground that thus far he’s neutral on. He’s adjusting to modern clothes, rapid for the time he’s spent. His host was fourteen, now seventeen, tipping eighteen. For his stubborn ways, time wasn’t going as fast as he would assume.

Sometimes, Horus finds himself in some culture shock.

Sometimes, Horus is alright.

All the time, Horus has Carter.

“We could pull the fire alarm, actually _light_ a fire, release the thermos-”

“Sadie.”

“Gods, you’re bor_ing._” She stands, looking out into the crowd for what Horus assumes is her parents. “You’re like, fourteen. Act it a little.”

Horus rolls his eyes. “I’m not fourteen, Sadie. Do I look fourteen?” She replies in agreement, but the true meaning of her words slide over his head. The gold of her dress stands out against her hair. “I am young, Sadie, but I’m not a careless youth.”

His eyesight is fine enough that he doesn’t need to stand; he seeks out Carter, getting comfortable in his seat, surrounded by classmates. Carter had taken him through a yearbook to give names to these faces, but they’re...gone. The few of Carter’s school friends who have met him are told that he’s a little older, out of school and working. “I hope he loosens you up. Years of this might drive me mad.” Sadie casually speaks as if he’ll be around. Which, Ma’at permitting, he will be. The risk of courting hosts, a main factor as to why he’s never dabbled in the process, is that they’re bound together regardless.

Carter, even now, is too precious to him to cast aside. Not just as a host, but as his...boyfriend. Consort. That’s the word. Carter Kane, Prince-Consort. Carter Kane, Pharaoh. A cornucopia of titles.

“We’ll see,” he agrees. Carter attends a large school, and the gymnasium is quickly filled. The Kane parents make their appearance soon enough, and he is not so stunted that he does not embrace Ruby Kane in a hug (Mother would want it); she grips him tightly, so he thinks. Julius Kane is only worth a nod, but it’s mutually agreed upon. Sandwiched by Kane girls, he doesn’t listen to the prattling of mortals, eyeing Carter up with vaguely veiled desire.

The Kane family has been considerate of their relationship, despite what Horus may individually think of them.

Proceedings of graduation continue to happen; speeches (Carter was _so _close to getting to make one, high in his class rankings but not high enough; the boy complained about it) and congratulations and other mortal frivolities. Sadie whispers vulgarities in his ear as people are called on stage to receive their celebratory papers that has Ruby shushing her over the constant clapping. Carter flashes them a smile as he goes up, and whatever constraint Horus possesses rolls into a ball of unbridled affection. Such a sweet thing.

The heat in the space becomes wet. Gross. At least he doesn’t sweat.

Eventually, Carter makes his way back to them. Still no touching, but Carter promises to meet the other Kanes at the restaurant, beckoning Horus to follow after him. Like a dog, he does. Still no touching, but it’s easier to move now as other mortals filter out in streams. Around the indoor track, and when they’re sufficiently alone, Carter grabs his belt loop, dragging him into one of those weird public restrooms with lockers and showers. The name is somewhere in his head.

Crammed into one stall, with only a curtain as privacy and a faucet that doesn’t drip, Carter turns his back to him, pointing at him over his shoulder. “Can you undo the snaps?” he asks. A white shirt peeks out beneath the robe. Horus does as asked, and lets his hands slide beneath the robe, skirting down to settle on his waist. Pulling him closer, Horus nuzzles his shoulder, and instantly hates the feeling of faux silk. Ears filled by Carter’s laugh, he’s only encouraged in his actions despite his repulsion, lips brushing lazily on some bare skin of his neck. “Hi, birdie. Miss me?”

“Perhaps.” Horus is young enough that a simple roll of Carter’s hips against his can rile him up. “Must we have dinner with your parents?” he grouses.

(the prince is good; the prince is adopting an old man to modern time.)

“For a little bit. Then we can go to the palace.”

Carter’s hands rest over his, over the robe. Horus pretends to think it over, as if he has any say in his mortal affairs. “You _do_ have something worth celebrating. Maybe let you have a sip of wine.” He always keeps Carter overnight when times are simple and there is no school, golden boy basked in unfiltered magic; mortals were never meant to spend that much time in the palace, but rules were archaic and meant to be flexible.

“Help me get this off,” Carter says. Horus helps him undress, and the robe is stashed away in his Duat locker, along with the cap. Carter turns around, hand wrapped in his shirt. He’s fairly pretty, Horus finds, staring back at the boy. “When we inevitably see my classmates at the restaurant, can I call you my boyfriend, if they ask?”

Horus shrugs. “You’re the one concerned if we go public, not I.” Carter smooths the fabric out, smile tugging at his face. Kissing his cheek, “Is the Stone boy your tallest friend?” If Carter’s friends don’t also attend Brooklyn House, he barely remembers them. Sadie’s friends that flirt with Carter stick out, but not their names, and one of them smells Greek. None of _that_.

“But not the tallest I know,” he answers. Great. Horus’ favorite part of modern life. At least he’s taller than the Kane children. Carter stands on his tiptoes, other hand cupping his cheek. “I still think you’re my handsome bird, even if you’re under six foot. Plenty of god for me,” he says, kissing him to punctuate his sentence. _Plenty of god_. He grips his hips.

The kiss deepens some. Good. He’s wanted this all night. Carter is slim and easy to crowd against the wall of the stall, small sigh slipping past the boy’s lips. Carter’s hand slides from his shoulder, wrapping around his neck. “Birdie,” he mumbles, complaints low beneath his tongue as Horus starts a string of kisses along his jaw. “You’re gonna-”_ gonna_. He’s slipping.

Near impossible to keep his hands still, Horus twines his hand in the boy’s hair, tilting his head to the side. “I’ve got you, kid,” he promises. “Don’t I always have you?” Carter is a horny little thing masquerading as something well put together, and he will gladly unwrap him, only encouraged by the sound out of his mouth.

Carter whines, hand tight against his neck. He hesitates between pulling him closer or pushing him away; Horus only carries on, nibbling his skin.

“We have to-” and cuts himself off with a moan. “Dinner,” he manages.

Horus chuckles; Carter squirms. “Alright, al_right_.” He gives some space, letting Carter fully relax before disengaging with him. “Where’s dinner at?”

Carter talks to him all the while adjusting his own clothes, smoothing his collar and the wrinkles in his shirt. Then he grabs his hand, ducking his head out to ensure they’re alone, and drags him out. Under the full light, he sees the ruddy cheeks. Poor, poor boy. “Some nice restaurant. I don’t think we’ve been there together.”

The prince is stopped by a few of his classmates on the way out, immediately letting go of his hand. He laughs awkwardly, forcing his way through conversation, jangling his keys. Horus is not good at veiling his affections, staring blatantly down at that mess of hair, standing close. The mortal offers him a smile over his shoulder, and his classmates elbow each other.

Something like public.

ii.

Horus is requested to help Carter move, and he agrees, because how could he not (the boy knows when to ask, curled up against his chest beneath lazy summer humidity)? Carter explains everything to him, about college and life and-

The boy has a roommate.

“No.” Maybe there was a time to have this conversation before the car started and Carter’s clothes were packed up. Maybe they could have talked about it as Horus slowly realized it, warm nights spent in a hoodie for Carter to take with him. The car eases to a stop at a red light, and Sadie Kane makes her presence known, tossing something at his head. Carter invited the other boy over last night, along with his unfortunate cousin, the girls from Brooklyn (including Ra’s brat), and while Horus often let his boy drink (who abstained for the night), he did not expect Sadie to steal his glass.

Or, rather, he did. He just thought someone would stop her before she passed out.

He was wrong.

“It’s a little too late for you to object now.” Carter’s hand leaves the steering wheel in one of those _hold my hand _sort of things; Horus is torn between staring at him or the hand. “Is this a jealousy thing?”

“No,” he says too quickly, and it all but seals his fate. “I understand the distance is not commutable, but I would have bought you your own apartment.”

Carter laughs, though its forced, fingers wrapping around the steering wheel once more. “Places are pretty expensive.”

Horus does not miss the beat: “And I am pretty wealthy.”

“That doesn’t mean you buy me an apartment-”

Sadie Kane groans in the backseat. “If you two are going to bicker I’m riding with Mom and Dad.”

Even Horus knows that is a lie, turning in the seat to look at her, spread eagle on the seat. “And let your father see that you are hung over?”

She flips him off, twirling some cord around her wrist; the music changes. “You gave me the alcohol, old man.”

The boy spares him a tired glance as they continue to banter back and forth, and their topic of conversation (Carter’s roommate) is forgotten for the next hour. Horus is always distracted by Carter, by the way his eyes scan the road, the way his hands grip the black of the steering wheel, the way his thigh flexes. He’s always distracted by him, always, forever.

Sadie calls him out on it when Carter stops to use the restroom and get a drink. The door shuts behind him with a soft slam, and Sadie’s blonde head pops between the seats, shit-eating grin plastered on her face. Her fingers reach for the radio, fiddling around with the air control. “You’re going to fuck him in his dorm, aren’t you?” Her crassness is something he has yet to adjust to, but he likes it; his own English is stiff but he is a young man all the same.

“No roommate is keeping me from my boy,” he says, except for the boy himself. “Am I unreasonable for wanting to give him his own apartment?”

The girl shrugs, stealing something off of Carter’s key chain, little rectangles of plastic. “You should wait until next year, at least. Maybe junior year. Let him have his college experience. He’s not going to cheat on you or get blackout drunk. Carter is too boring for that.”

Horus purses his lips. “That is not what I-this is not about him cheating on me. I know he is true. He is stilted enough with affection. I do not imagine strangers will help any.” He should leverage this discussion Carter’s way, not to his baby sister, but speaking to her about certain aspects is easier. It is not easy to admit that some part of him is insecure, because he’s Horus the Avenger and a thousand other titles, but they lie there, usually offloaded on his wife.

Carter would bare them all, but he has enough to bare by himself.

“Have you thought that, maybe, being around people he doesn’t know will let him be open with you?” He looks at her, one brow arched. She snorts. “Look. Carter cares about other people’s opinions. He’s a smart, kind, vaguely athletic boy. He can’t suddenly be a bottom twink too who likes older men.” Sadie, complimenting her brother, ends it the way he figured he would.

He does not understand most of the second sentence, briefly considers asking for a clarification, before digging bored through the glove box. “Sadie.” She hums, falling into the backseat. “I think you are full of shit.”

She barks a laugh. “He’ll loosen up in college. Give him a chance.” Next comes her feet onto the console; Carter can deal with her. “It took him a year and a half to even let you show up around Walt, let alone touch him, and he’s known you two pretty much the same amount of time. He let you use his lap as a pillow last night in front of some of the Brooklyn kids. He’s getting there,” she says. The dreary music is flipped to something high speed, annoying, and full of screeches.

It was _nice_, last night. He will give her that. Carter’s loose gaggle of friends crowded into his bedroom, a final sort of goodbyes, because this is something important to mortals, and he was invited; Horus went. The god was quickly invited to lay down on Carter’s lap, dazed between alcohol, the thrumming of magic, but equally vigilant._ Heru, _Carter muttered sweetly, thumb across his cheek, but no kisses.

“...I suppose so,” he says. Horus goes to speak again, but the door opens, and the constant source of his affection slides back into his seat.

“It always warms me when you two don’t kill each other,” Carter says dryly. Drinks are settled in cup holders, lips are pressed to lips (“I _will _go ride with Mom”), and the car starts to roll again.

Carter.

What a good host.

Moving Carter into his dorm is easy enough; a lot of action, not much standing still, and he knows Carter brought him to carry everything. It does not matter. The family goes through some platitudes that he is present for, Ruby hugs both of them for some reason, and the parents and Sadie (well over her hangover) leave him to unpack.

The boy closes the door with a soft click, smile spread on his face. “I have some news I think you’ll like.”

“You have a single room.”

He rolls his eyes. He sets about making his bed, green comforter and olive sheets. It is a good color against his skin. “No. He won’t be here for two days. End of move-in period,”

Of course that Carter was rooming with another boy. It comforted him more than if it were a girl, as if Carter’s preferences were notable. “When do you-”’

Carter stops his bed making for a moment, standing on his tiptoes to grab the collar of his shirt. “Later. We’ll talk when I know you’re actually paying attention. Help me unpack.” He does, of course he does. He’d give Carter his crown if he asked. The sun sets behind the hills, or whatever it does, and the boy’s half of the room looks somewhat decent, something like home. Loosely decorated with only a few pictures on the desk (Brooklyn, his family, a strip of photos of them taken in a booth) and his favorite books from home.

The bed is small, but they have slept in smaller. Carter pushes him back to sit on it, and Carter wheels over his chair. Ah. Serious talk, given that he isn’t on his lap. “I want you _here_. Are you listening?” he asks with the vaguest tone of reprimanding.

“Yes, Carter.” Serious talk. No nicknames. The mortal, his mortal, lays out his anticipated schedule, and writes it down, too, Sunday through Saturday. Horus holds the piece of paper in his lap; why is this so difficult? He’s been separated from hosts and wives before. The former were mortal, and the latter is immortal. Why does leaving Carter make him worry so much? This isn’t even the host he’s spent the most amount of time with.

One day he will understand Carter and what he feels for him. Magicians have longer lifespans. There’s time.

Carter’s fingers touch his jaw, and he puts the paper down. “You _live_ in me, Heru. We’re stuck together. I have all these king duties and the Nome and-well, you know,” he says with a smile. “It’s not like we’re a long distance relationship.” Horus _sighs_, and yanks the boy onto his lap, but it does not last long, dumping the boy on his back. His head almost smacks the wall, yet a laugh escapes his mouth. “_Birdie_,” he complains.

Horus tucks his face into his shoulder. “Hush, princeling. We’re stuck together.”

iii.

He does not meet Carter’s roommate until October.

It’s initially started by Carter finishing whatever he is working on, and Carter asks if they can go out to dinner; Horus agreed, because being in multiple places at once was the perk of being a god. Despite being in college, Carter still keeps a handful of clothes around for him. They both enjoy it, so Carter makes a point to wear the god’s jacket.

A beautiful creature.

Carter’s been holding his hand far more often since coming to college; not full time, though. Crowded spaces, maybe, but spots were its noticeable? Unfortunately not.

The amount of time they’ve slept together has decreased, too.

Things are deceptively fine.

They go to some restaurant that Horus doesn’t quite understand. Carter orders for him; he doesn’t care. Horus buys dinner, Carter sits opposite of him in the booth. Somehow the boy’s long legs bend enough to put his feet on the god’s knees without disturbing the table. The sound of plastic is rich in this room, somewhere between fast food and sit down meals, one unhappy toddler set to the backdrop of his boy’s contemporaries.

“Carter? Is that you?”

Fork halfway to the boy’s mouth, and he pauses, looking up. He knows well Carter’s forced smiles. “Nathan. Hey.” _My roommate_, Carter says before he can ask.

There’s nothing concerning that Horus can notice.

Nathan takes a seat beside Carter. “I didn’t think you left the campus.” He’s a little too dense to read tone of voice, but the body language does not indicate anything bad. Carter’s tense, but he so often is.

“I sometimes do,” he says dryly. He’s a polite thing, and Carter points across the table. “Nathan, this is Horus, my-” he falters. Horus gives his ankle a soft squeeze.

“The guy from the pictures. Boyfriend?”

Like that, weight leaves Carter. He stumbles through the conversation required of him, very good at that, and Horus lets himself stare at the way his jaw works. His hazel eyes find his, the untold blush creeping up the back of his neck.

He always misses Carter. Mortals die so easily. He’s caught Carter choking on ginger ale.

Carter’s roommate leaves with a correct amount of pleasantries and a slap on Carter’s back. He plays with his hands. “If I stay with you overnight, will you make sure I get up on time?” he asks.

“Naturally, dear.” He runs his fingers beneath his pant leg, fingers against bare skin. He’s not allowed to linger long as Carter pays for dinner. There is no hand holding, but he’s drawn into a tight hug just around the corner, nose digging into his shoulder. “What, little brat?” he asks.

A slight shrug is his answer. “You’re my-my-boyfriend, and someone besides my family knows and he doesn’t care.”

Horus knows from Carter’s memories that modern concerns differ from his own. They’re not a _normal couple_, which proves troublesome for others, though they, personally, have been well. A spouse is a spouse to him. He’s had his preferences, his people had their preferences, the Greeks are simply odd, but this modern debate about bed-mates stumps him.

But here they are: college, with Carter publicly embracing him.

Perhaps Sadie shares more traits with her mother than they all realize.

He kisses his forehead. “An absolute brat. Let’s go.”

Brats, too, are good at digging their sharp elbows and knees into him. His wife was a hair softer, but his prince winds around him just as easily. He asks if Carter’s just here to sleep, which he gets a noncommittal response, breaths deep across his bare shoulder. He’s told they might do something else. Horus lovingly sighs _Brat_ into his curls.

It’s difficult to get anything done with Carter slumbering on his chest, but Mother makes do, eyes cast towards the sky not out of modesty but exasperation. He reads a few dozen scrolls throughout the night, taking the occasional moment to doze soundly with Carter. He’s a good kid. He’d do anything for him.

Carter wakes, on his own, four hours before he’s meant to leave. Too early for breakfast, yet the sleepy request to join him in the shower well makes up for it. “My boyfriend and I. Me and my boyfriend, taking a shower together,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

Rolling his eyes, he sits up, setting the scrolls on the bed stand and tipping the boy onto his back. “We’ve showered together, prince, before. Our relationship status isn’t anything new.”

He shrugs, the first one of the day. “I just never saw myself coming out to someone, you know? Well, you probably don’t. I’m not into guys, just into you, but I never would have admitted that even to you, my vain old bird.”

That’s him. The vain old bird. His heart thumps once at the mention. His eyes find the sturdy curve of his hip. “You know how to inflate a man’s ego, princeling.”

Carter’s smile is worth everything. “It’s enjoyable.” He sits up, arms stretched above his head. “Hey, birdie. We have time to-“

“I’m well aware.” That grin is almost feral. He’s barely a moment to think before Carter slinks onto his lap like a kitten. “You slipped last time and had a bruise for a week,” he says bluntly.

Gold. SIlver. Every piece of jewelry he’s ever owned. Carter’s worth too much to ever sell.

The shower takes thirty-two minutes; despite the awkward time, he sends for breakfast. If the boy has time to eat, he’s going to make sure he does. The kitchen staff – floating lights - are not ones for complaining.

His princeling, too, dresses slowly, a single sock at a time sliding up his calves. It’s enticing, really, but he can’t _always_ hover over him. This morning, he can, and interupts when he can, buttoning Carter’s shirt for him in half an effort to touch the boy more. His gorgeous eyes follow the motions. “How did we tell your mother?” Carter asks, quietly; his fingers wrap around the god’s wrist in what he knows to be _Slow down_, though it rarely comes with _redressing_.

He cocks his head. “I don’t think we did, really. She simply caught on from us sharing a room. And the gifts.” Carter nods at the mention; perhaps Horus went overboard, but he _got_ Carter. Courting was functional in a modern society. “It was a much bigger deal for your parents.”

Carter kisses his palms. “I made a mountain-” he pauses, tongue running over his teeth, “-I made a big deal out of nothing.”

“You tend to work the small things into something bigger,” he agrees, “but you keep it to your personal life.”

The boy sits up, leaning his head on his shoulder. “My vain old bird,” he mutters. “Want to know something?” Horus hums. He’s grateful that Carter is comfortable here. When he first brought the boy into the palace, he was stiff, surrounded by pillows, chairs, and sheets older than his mother’s line. That _was_ then, though when Carter started spending most nights with him, he brought his own blankets. “You make me happy.”

He laughs, low, wresting his hands free from Carter. “I do try. Does this mean I can sleep in the dorm?”

The look he’s given is fond yet exasperated. “I’ll ask. It’s his room too.”

iv.

“Why me? I am the king of the gods, not some-”

“Green or violet?” Sadie asks, leaning back in her leather seat. Her bandaged fingers flick through a catalog (a training accident that Mother is apologizing for still).

Horus huffs, staring down at her. “You have two boyfriends and a gaggle-”

The girl throws her head back in laughter. “-a gaggle!-”

“-of girlfriends. Why am I here?” He did not mind, particularly, but affection for one Kane did not extend to the whole family. Sadie gave him plenty of headaches too. How Mother put up with her, how Mother dealt with _being in her head_, he did not know. It only made Mother stronger for it. “And violet.” Green is Carter’s color.

Sadie’s eyes lift over the edge of her catalog. “What else are you doing? Both of my boyfriends are busy. The girls are in Brooklyn. Take a seat. Stop being weird,” she says. “And I want lunch.”

Ridiculous. Sadie goes through her hair appointment and chats about nonsense in the way women do.

Sadie. A woman.

He shudders.

She is growing up. Both of them are.

This time, Sadie’s colored chunk of hair turns out violet, as he suggested, and it sits well amongst her caramel hair. The girl is something else, and he finds her annoyingly endearing. She leads him away, out of the salon, and he notices too that she has eyeliner on. “One of your boyfriends cancel?” he asks.

“Maybe I got dolled up for you,” but the impenetrable Sadie Kane cannot say it with a straight face. “I figured with finals you haven’t left the Duat much, anyway. Plus your mother is too concerned about what’s ‘correct’,” she uses her fingers to quote, “to really have fun.”

The girl is right. She, obnoxiously, often is; he’s barely seen Carter since meeting his roommate. “No explosions, little Kane.” She makes a rude gesture, running her fingers through her hair. In somewhat of an effort to be...cordial on this forced outing (she is a Kane, and Carter’s infuria-_dear_ sister), and an attempt to get out of it, he broaches a conversation they rarely have. “Don’t you have something for school you should be doing?”

She nods. “Yep. I’m suppose to be there right now.” Ah. “Let’s stop home first so I can shower.”

“Did it occur to you that I might have things to do?”

Her eyes slide up, catching his. “I know you don’t. The walls are only soundproof at Brooklyn.” If he cared, the implications of her sentence would make him flush. She’s heard his complaints. “And, you know, gods can be in multiple places at once,” she says accusingly, jangling car keys in her hands; she gets Julius’ car while he’s out of town. Both children hate the bus, though he’s never had the opportunity to ride it. From Carter’s complaints, he doesn’t want to.

Sadie, likewise, terrifies him while driving. She’s a little too fast, on pace with the other drivers scarily enough, a little too jerky, and very adamant about using the horn. She_ does_ use her blinker (words he’s heard); he hears the noise it makes. He leans forward in his seat to watch cars and streets whiz by. He likes the speed, though it does not come close to riding in an airplane the one time. Trains were worth wild too, but Carter did not approve of sitting on the top of it.

At least he’s immortal. At least they got crammed in a small sleeping car.

That’ll be his birthday present, he decides.

The car rolls into the quiet neighbor, sun brilliant bright overhead. The Kane house is well taken care of thanks to magic despite the frequent vacancies it has. Horus, still, isn’t a fan of grass, but most of this country is grass (his own complaints amuse Carter).

“Don’t get into trouble.” she says. The baby Kane always uses magic to open the door, not the troublesome key. She meanders upstairs as the door clicks behind them; she would still be sleeping if she could be. Sometimes, Horus questions Kane competency, but they quickly prove him wrong time and time again. It’s almost frustrating.

In the modern world, he understands the Kane home. He’s learned something, after all, and fumbles a text to Carter (_I have been kidnapped by Sadie I hope you are well_). Horus steps into the kitchen in the process, though he does not know how to walk and text. A skill not for him, taking a moment to finalize his thoughts.

It’s. Functional. Something like that.

He opens the fridge, his eyes shifting through the shelves. There’s bound to be leftovers; the Kane mother is a small eater. Plus, he instinctively trusts the Kane mother. She has only made one bad meal during their years together. He grabs a covered dish, and, much to his pleasure, remembers how to use the microwave.

Horus feels disgustingly mortal at times.

Still, he’s no interest in television.

He balances the plate on his lap, sitting on the counter. That’d be a reprimand, but there’s no one here to do it. Horus eats in comfortable silence, the sound of the shower reverberating through the walls. There’s music too, but that’s Sadie.

Mortal.

v.

The rest of Carter’s freshmen year whizzes by. There’s few problems, save for a few _gas leaks_ in the spring. Even Sadie’s birthday party manages well with no problems, but the Kanes do blow up a cake. In fact, summer is almost boring; there’s no hitches until Carter gets a stack of mail from college.

They’re (mainly Carter and Ra’s brat, because Horus is just stuck in Carter’s head anyway,  but barely present ) back, if for a few days, from traveling the globe and dealing with loose nomes in need of assistance. Ra’s brat heads upstairs, using Sadie’s room when she’s out, to bathe and likely nap. He can still smell the flames on her.  Her opinion on her has wavered some, to something more positive, but he blames the remnants of his aunt in her.

She has been good to Carter, too.

“Little king.”  Having a physical body was always good. His sandals slide across the tiled floor of the Kane kitchen. Magic keeps the house fresh despite the present lack of occupants, the same magic that keeps Brooklyn decent while the children go home.  Carter will be back at Brooklyn some point during the summer, to hopefully check in on a lonely Freak, and maybe, just maybe, Horus can get into a scuffle with Bastet.

With Carter’s blessing. Things on a godly end are boring. Few demons, Is’fet calmed, and mortal politics were a place he was not suppose to tread.

“Birdie. Welcome back.” Carter filters through his mail, letting himself be drawn into an embrace,  silent as he burrows into his shoulder. Much to Carter’s disappointment, he’s gotten taller, while Carter remains neck and neck with his sister. “Thanks for not being obnoxious.”

He shrugs. “I do try, princeling. You smell like cilantro.”  Carter takes a step back, crowding himself against the island, turning so he can read unimpeded. Naturally, Horus follows. The Kane parents are doing their own magician duties, while Sadie gets into trouble in England while visiting/harassing her grandparents by bringing Walt around. “How long until you leave again?”

Always talented,  his princeling says, while reading: “Two days. The DVR should have caught your show while we were away.”  His mail-shuffling pauses. Over his shoulder, he sees the crest of Carter’s college. Horus knew he passed with flying colors (Julius  _embraced_ his son), because it was Carter, but the letter obviously is not about that. He opens the envelope with a letter opener—that was a gift, too—and Horus notices the lines and places to fill things out. Before he can stumble his way through English, the letter is stashed away, along with the others, in a drawer in the island.

He’s not given any time to question it, princeling looking up, tired eyes on his. “If we go anywhere, we invite Zia. She probably won’t come,” because Carter can hear his complaints before he says them, “but it’s the matter of being polite.”

“Prin-”

“Your mother agrees with me.”

“ You’re a brat, Carter Kane.”

It’s the first smile in days reserved for him.

Horus is left to his own devices for a few hours while the mortals nap. Magic and traveling exhausts the two of them. Carter uses his lap as a pillow in the living room, because it means he doesn’t have to crane his neck into the ba pillow. Carter’s soul doesn’t leave without permission.  There’s eight episodes recorded, and he’s told to wake his princeling halfway through the fifth. He almost contemplates figuring out how to  _fast forward_ to wake him sooner, but the children deserve their sleep, for they are busy.

It’s. Mortal.

Nothing has changed on  _Hoarders_ . Part of the show sickens him, plus he’s usually scolded by Carter that it’s not a representation of most of the modern world. He  _enjoys_ it though, along with a few other things on the channel, so Carter lets him have it. 

Summer sun going strong, he gently wakes Carter (startling magicians awake is usually not a good thing; the soul can get lost) while commercials for cars play. They’re a special kind of obnoxious. He’s asked multiple times what the words were (APR? MSRP?) yet no Kane indulges him. Now, the car commercial morphs into one for food. Most of the food does not look good.

“One minute,” the tentative love of his life grumbles. Carter sits up, doesn’t linger, and stumbles into the kitchen for a drink.  The fridge opens, the light floods the dimmed walls, glasses clink, and drawers open and shut. His lithe arms slide down Horus’ shoulders from behind, drink in one hand (juice) and letter in the other. “So,” he says, nose digging into his nape.

“Can I help you?” He hears Ra’s brat stirring. The floor creaks beneath her steps, and he sees half of her figure as she slips by the stairs to the bathroom. She dresses conservatively in most she did, but she feels comfortable in the Kane home, he knew.

Carter nods. “Don’t get too excited.  I liked my roommate, I guess, but...” he offers the letter for him to read, “I think I’d rather move in with you.”

_Too _ excited. “ So-”

The boy nods again. “We will  _look_ , probably agree on one, but if my grades start to slip, Dad says I have to go back to the dorms.” He sighs, breath tickling his neck. “You understand Sadie will probably come running when she gets pissed off at Dad?”

“I’m well acquainted.” He borrows Carter’s glass; one of those mixed juices. “I have to pretend to be mortal, I take it.”

“Documents and all. I’ll get that blank piece from Bast.”  Horus does sigh at that. “ You really can afford all of this?” he asks quietly.

Horus, in a move that needs reprimanding, snorts.  Carter kisses his cheek. “Don’t worry, princeling. I’ve the funds.”

vi.

Carter’s needed in the First Nome for a week. The boy may be willing to bend the rules sometimes, but gods are strictly forbidden from the place. It makes sense, he figures, as most Nomes have not warmed back up to gods, but its frustrating. Without aggression, it will take  _time_ for Carter’s peers to be in positions of leadership.

And he has time.

He can make sure of it.

Horus, partially, is stolen by Sadie for two days to do mortal things (she has her own school shopping to do). She also helps him pick up a few things for the new apartment; the girl buys a pillow specifically for herself, more than content with sleeping on the couch. He’s slowly accepting Sadie as a permanent fixture in his life. Two days seems like an eternity with her, between spiral notebooks and cold beverages.

The rest of his time is spent with Mother, checking on various parts of the Duat, various cells, and the rebirth/reemergence of various gods. It is taking a while for the minor gods to be resurfaced, which is partially where the mortals come in. Gods cannot fade if they are not forgotten.  Ma’at cannot be forced.

If he ever fades, he hopes it is long after Carter.

Nights are quick—Carter talks to him and promises  to be back in Brooklyn at three. 

For once, he utilizes being in multiple places at once. He only has one living host, the rest statues, but there is his amulet stored in Brooklyn’s library. It counts. He sits on the roof of Brooklyn House while dealing with his godly duties, too; Mother makes multiple comments that he seems distracted as she resurrects the other palace’s servants. Having a home to return to could encourage gods, maybe, though he had his doubts. Mother made him clean up loose, dangling demons who had taken refuge in the emptied palaces. Gods and Ma’at went hand in hand; the more gods to resurface, the more stable Ma’at becomes, the more Is’fet sat in perpetual balance with it, the better things could be.

In the mortal world, he cares for Freak. The griffin has multiple complaints weighing on his beak by the Greeks, receiving weekly complaints, but the griffin is too young to properly listen. He’ll need time with other griffins to socialize. He needs training.

Being locked inside a tablet for a few thousand years can make you stiff.

The ankle-biters like him too much to take him away for long, though, and he would hate  to ruin their day.

Horus does not bother translating Freak. Most of his words aren’t worth repeating, crass and ruinous. “Hush,  _hush,” _ he says upon arrival, and the griffin finds him with ease. Freak bounds across the roof and tackles him onto his back. He slaps the creature’s side to give himself space to breathe.  Freak shifts over him. “ The little lord will be here for a few days,” he promises. Carter is Freak’s master, after all, not him.

Another screech. Horus sighs. Glitter sparkles in his fur. “Be back by ten,” he says, giving into Freak’s demand. “Stay  _away_ from pegasi.” Freak’s paw smacks into his shoulder,  nicking his skin with a claw, and he disappears  into the sky. Horus rubs the spot, warm magic tickling across the wound to suture it close. His griffins have never accidentally hurt him.

Thankfully, there is no room for Freak at the apartment.

“Am I interrupting something?” Carter asks. The boy shakes sand out of his hair as the portal swirls behind him.

“No,” he replies. Horus tilts his head back to catch sight of Carter. “You’ve lost weight.”

Carter shrugs. “Probably. Get up.  Far as Bast knows, I won’t be here until tomorrow morning. I want to stop by the apartment.”

Horus frowns. “I promised Freak you would be here.”

“And we have a new bed to break in,” he counters.  That’s a promise. He does like the sound of it; he always misses Carter.

S tanding up, he closes the distance between him and his host . “You cannot always persuade me with sex, Carter Kane.”

He’s good at smiling. “I think I can,” he answers. He grabs his hand, stepping back into the portal as the seconds pass. They tumble out of it in a park near the Kane home, obelisk humming warmly behind them, elbow digging into his side. Such pointy elbows. The boy puts his sword in his Duat locker, then dragging him down a path towards the street. “Sadie told me you two went shopping; good bird.”

They don’t say much else. Carter buys a few more small things (utensils, plates, containers for his lunch) before they’re back at where they have been before: buying sheets. Shockingly enough, however, Carter leans back in his arms, head beneath his chin.  Slowly getting comfortable.

Horus lays his hands on Carter’s hips;  the boy tenses for only a second. “I think we should switch it up. Maybe blue. You look good with blues,” Carter says. “Or I could just sleep in one of your shirts for the rest of time.”

“I am not picky, princeling,” he responds. He squeezes his right hip, feeling bone beneath his fingers. “You have a few weeks before you go back to school. There’s no reason to rush.”

Carter shrugs. “I wan n a get settled before then.”

_Wanna_ . He’s tired.  “Get your sheets, boy.”  It’s enough of a push that Carter decides within a few minutes, and Horus cheats a little to bring them back to the apartment. Why shouldn’t he? Every night Carter spends in the apartment is further proof of whatever they are. No sharing Carter with a roommate, who did seem nice enough, but it was the principle. No sharing, period.

And when fall  _did_ come (Horus is excited for Carter to graduate if only to learn proper seasons),  everything remains fine.

**Author's Note:**

> okay bloodbank is actually done now. now comes the kids. i promise. maybe by christmas, because the kid fic won't be i,ii,iii, etc., it will be Traditional chapters
> 
> i also feel like when i write these things i only know what i'm doing for the first three and then the rest are incredibly Bad.


End file.
